Como estás?
My name is Rosa
And like my mother
Before me
Everyday I roll cigars
And they're
The finest in the world
To pass the time
The reader reads
About the violence
In America
And I pray
For my daughter
And her baby girl
Late one night
They took a boat
Ninety miles
From Havana
To escape
The only life
I've ever known
She could have been
Just like me
A well-respected
Working woman
Who believes
In her country
And her home
And I wonder as I roll
Where will each one go
Will they land
In the hands of kings
And presidents
It's an art
It's a skill
And some would even kill
Just for one
Of Rosa's coronas
It's everywhere
In the news
That John Paul
Is on his way
And for years
I've longed to see
The Holy Father's parade
We've been told not to go
Or production falls behind
But I know the quota
Won't be made that day